


Broken Stars

by Twisted_Taffy



Series: Copied [6]
Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Xephos has PTSD, Xephos has amnesia, Xephos is a spaceman, Xephos misses space, space
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-11-10 01:08:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11116707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twisted_Taffy/pseuds/Twisted_Taffy
Summary: Xephos longed for space. The longing came and went, sometimes only a slight tingling, sometimes a tidal wave of painful memories he could not remember. He is a broken star.





	Broken Stars

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: We don't own the Yogscast or any of these characters.

Xephos longed for space. The twinkling light of the stars, the rich blackness of space, they drew from his heart an irresistibly deep craving to return. His heart and mind cried in the loss of these things from his past. These things that were a part of him, forever separated.

As his heart cried in loss his mind howled in pain, floundering in the lack of understanding, in the helpless confusion. How could he miss so badly a place he could not remember? His memories could not produce a single thought for him to linger upon and yet his heart screamed with details he could not comprehend. 

The longing came and went, sometimes only a slight tingling, sometimes a tidal wave of painful memories he could not remember.  When the pain washed over him and bowled him over he would crawl his way to the towering factory roof. The usually comforting and protecting glow of the torches on the chilly marble turned harsh and cold in blue eyes before a wildly swinging arm sent them flying into sudden darkness. The night wrapped around Xephos like a breeze full of the scents of icy voids and unfeeling, uncaring emptiness. He reached for its source, his mysterious world floating out of reach, his feet sunk deep in the primitive dirt that kept him away from it. 

Always, always for a moment there was a tiny kernel of starlit hope that glowed faintly within him. Always, always in a moment he would remember where he was and the dark dragon of reality shattered the kernel and enveloped the remains in crushing despair. In this moment, always, always, Xephos cried. Not wracking sobs or choking gasps, just tears springing from a deep, unending well of sorrow.

The hours passed, but he never knew how many. He never felt the constant pull of time, washed away before it filtered into his broken consciousness. But with time the pain slowly lessened, the tears slowly dried, and he climbed exhausted back to his bed so he could wake with the already rising sun and put on his show.

His show of happiness, of contentment. His show of pain, all real, but only some reasons known. He puts on the show that he can, tugs the cracking mask over his broken features, and hopes, desperately hopes, that it will hold, that no one will notice. Because he is strong, he is a hero. They built him a statue, cheered him, called him their savior. But through the cold marble ran faults, faults that only he saw because they were covered in bright, glowing ornaments that only he could ignore. He was strong, he was a champion, he was a hero. He is a broken star.


End file.
